[Looks up with despair in his eyes.] Never to be able to work again! Never!—never! A living death! Mother, can you imagine anything so horrible?
Mrs. Alving.
My poor boy! How has this horrible thing come upon you?
Oswald.
[Sitting upright again.] That’s just what I cannot possibly grasp or understand. I have never led a dissipated life—never, in any respect. You mustn’t believe that of me, mother! I’ve never done that.
Mrs. Alving.
I am sure you haven’t, Oswald.
Oswald.
And yet this has come upon me just the same—this awful misfortune!
Mrs. Alving.